


At arm's length

by Wheel_of_fortune



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Agoraphobia, Aziraphale has a mental breakdown after Armaggedon't, F/M, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-01
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 17:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20839217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wheel_of_fortune/pseuds/Wheel_of_fortune
Summary: When he turned back, Crowley was close.Too close, said his brain.‘Angel-’, Crowley started. Then thought it over, removed his sunglasses. Aziraphale saw his serpentine eyes. They were wide open, vulnerable, full of unsaid things.Too much, said his brain.‘Angel, I wanted to say- I’ve been wanting to say this for six thousand years, but I guess tonight is- I mean, it’s a good time, right?’Too fast, said his brain.----Crowley almost confesses. Aziraphale has a panic attack.





	At arm's length

**Author's Note:**

> A lot has been written about Crowley's PTSD. But Aziraphale has also been through hell. I wanted to explore that.

And then, in a sigh, it was over.

The world would keep going on. The humans would continue theirs lives, the trees would keep growing, the days would pass. 

A nightingale sang in Berkeley square, an angel and a demon dined at the Ritz. They talked, they laughed, and for a moment there, there was hope for something more. 

They walked home, strolled slowly through the streets of London, shoulder to shoulder. Smiling. 

Aziraphale unlocked the bookshop door, Crowley held it open for him. They lingered in the backstore, awkwardly, something heavy in the air. Aziraphale removed his coat, placed it on a peg, offered something to drink. When he turned back, Crowley was close. 

_ Too close _ , said his brain. 

‘Angel-’, Crowley started. Then thought it over, removed his sunglasses. Aziraphale saw his serpentine eyes. They were wide open, vulnerable, full of unsaid things. 

_ Too much _ , said his brain. 

‘Angel, I wanted to say- I’ve been wanting to say this for six thousand years, but I guess tonight is- I mean, it’s a good time, right?’

_ Too fast _ , said his brain. 

‘Aziraphale, I-’ muttered Crowley, stepping closer.

_ NO _ , said his brain.

‘NO,’ said Aziraphale, his hands coming up of their own accord to stop Crowley. 

Crowley stopped. Blinked. Gulped. Aziraphale could see his heart breaking.

‘A- alright. I get it. No. I’ll- I’ll go-’

And he stepped back. 

‘NO!’ said Aziraphale, grabbing him by the lapels. 

They both froze. 

‘Don’t- No!’ Aziraphale tried to say.

‘Angel,’ muttered Crowley, ‘you’re sending me mixed signals, here.’

Aziraphale tried to explain, but there were no more words. There was only a sudden, completely encompassing wave of fear. He was shaking. He felt tears fill up his eyes, and fall down his cheeks.

‘Hey, hey, Angel- What? What??’   
‘I- Crowley, I can’t- I can’t-’

He didn’t even know why he was crying, but he couldn’t stop. He couldn’t let Crowley go, he couldn’t let him get any closer, and he couldn’t STOP. CRYING. 

‘Shhh, it’s okay- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I take it back, I won’t do it again, I promise- Please, Angel, I didn’t want to make you cry, I’m so sorry-’

Oh no, Crowley was crying too. Aziraphale wanted to console him, tell him it wasn’t his fault, it was nothing he’d done or almost said. It was something bigger, taking him over- 

‘I- I can’t-’

He felt his knees give up, and fell to the floor, pulling Crowley with him. He hadn’t even thought of letting go of the jacket. He just couldn’t let go. 

‘Ouch- ok, Angel, you’re hyperventilating. I don’t know if it’s bad or what, but I’d rather you didn’t. Please-’

There was too much, everything was changing and he couldn’t stop it. Too much going on, and this was one more thing, one more thing, one more thing, one more thing-

‘Angel. Please, listen to me. Breathe with me.’

He felt Crowley’s chest move under his hands. He listened. Slowed down. It took a while. 

‘Angel-’

‘Too much,’ he choked. ‘Too much.’

He calmed down, got his voice back. He was still shaking. 

‘Aziraphale, I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said-’

‘Not my body,’ he gasped.

‘- What? No, I wouldn’t do anything without- what?’   
‘This is not my body! It looks like it, but it’s not the same, it doesn’t feel the same! It feels too new, too wrong!’

‘Okaaay?’   
‘And my books aren’t the same either! They’re identical- down to each molecule, but those aren’t the same books that I’ve kept for decades! They’re not the ones I bought, or that friends gifted me- they’re imitations- fake- so fake-’

‘Oh, my Angel…’

‘FAKE, Crowley, Heaven was fake! The whole time! I thought I was doing the right thing! I thought I had my place over there, I thought they res- respected me,’ he hiccuped. ‘But no! They would have executed me! Without a trial! My colleagues! And- and- GOD! She never stopped them! She never answered! I thought She would care about the Earth, but She never answered! I thought God was love! I thought Heaven was love! But it’s all fake! It’s all cold- and unforgiving- and She’d rather erase them all- when- when SHE PROMISED SHE WOULDN’T DO IT AGAIN-’’ 

He burst into tears once more. Crowley lifted his hands, wanting to hug him, but stopped. He placed them back on the floor. 

‘... Yeah, I can understand why my… why I’m too much, on top of all that-’

‘I can’t- I can’t take any more- Crowley- I’m sorry, but I can’t…’

‘It’s okay. Aziraphale, look at me.’

He lifted his head and saw Crowley’s eyes. Serpentine, yellow, full of compassion. 

‘I get it. Believe me, I get it. And I won’t push. I’ll do whatever you need me to do, okay?’

Aziraphale nodded.

‘Good. Care to let me go?’

Aziraphale shook his head. 

‘Okay. I’ll stay here.’

And they sat in silence, for a long time, until Aziraphale stopped crying.

Around three in the morning, he managed to calm down enough to let Crowley’s jacket go. His fingers were cramped, he stretched them, a bit embarrassed. 

‘My apologies, my friend,’ he muttered. ‘I don’t know what got over me.’

‘Hey, we’re all entitled to a nervous breakdown once in a while. You were overdue.’

At this point, Crowley let out an enormous yawn. 

‘Oh! My dear, you must be exhausted!’

‘It's nothing, don’t worry-’   
‘Nonsense, you stopped time! And kept your car from burning! And redirected a bus- No, I won’t hear more about it, you have to sleep!’

‘Ok, ok, I’ll go back home-’

‘ ** _NO!_ ** ’

Aziraphale plastered his hands over his mouth. The shout had been involuntary. Crowley blinked. 

‘You… want me to stay?’

‘...Yes. Please.’

‘Sure, I can sleep on the couch, not the first time I’ve done it-’

‘No, I’ve got a room upstairs, I think.’

Crowley followed him up to a tiny apartment, also full of books. Aziraphale showed him to a cramped room with a fluffy-looking bed covered in a tartan bedspread. To Crowley, it looked like a cloud. 

‘Angel, are you sure you’re gonna be okay?’   
‘Yes, I’ll drink some tea and read a book or two, I’ll be good. Don't fret. But you, to bed with you! You look dead on your feet!’   
‘Geez, you know how to charm a snake.’

They exchanged a look. Aziraphale was the first to avert his eyes. 

‘... ‘night, Angel.’   
‘Good night, Crowley.’

Once the door was closed, Aziraphale felt lost. He went to make a cup of tea, drank it, and went to pick a book to read. He went to his favorite, his comfort reading, and almost broke down when he saw Oscar Wilde’s signature on the first page. The ink wasn’t the same, the signature wasn’t the same. This book was an exact copy, but it wasn’t the same. Like his body wasn’t the same, like his Crowley-

Crowley.

A wave of fear almost drowned him. Crowley wasn’t in his immediate line of sight. Where was he? Supposedly upstairs, sleeping, but was he sure of that? Hell could have found out about their ruse and nothing would stop them from taking back Crowley-

He ran up the stairs and stopped at the door. There was breathing, inside, but he couldn’t be sure-

He opened the door, just to look. Crowley was sound asleep, curled around a pillow. Aziraphale could breathe again. He closed the door, silently, and stood there. He couldn’t go back downstairs, not with Crowley defenceless. He had to stay, and make sure-

Aziraphale guarded the door, his fingers itching for a flaming sword. 

* * *

Crowley slept through the day and through another night. Aziraphale stood guard, without moving.

Come the second morning, Crowley woke up with a groan. He took a while to get up and get dressed, and when he left the room, Aziraphale wasn’t there. He found the Angel at the small kitchenette, making tea. 

‘Did you sleep well, my dear?’

Crowley groaned and threw himself sideways on a ratty tartan couch, and curled around a cushion.

‘You can sleep more, if you want.’

‘No… I’m up... ‘

‘Here, drink.’ 

Crowley extended a hand and grabbed the mug, miracling the gravity so he could drink it sideways. Aziraphale scoffed and sat nearby. They drank in companionable silence, in the morning light. 

Aziraphale could breathe again. Crowley was there, they were safe, and they could enjoy this moment. 

Once they were done with the tea, Crowley stretched and yawned once again. Scratched his belly.

‘Are we gonna talk about it?’ he mumbled.    
‘I have no idea what you mean.’   
‘What happened yesterday.’   
‘A lot of things happened yesterday.’

‘Angel. Stop it.’

Aziraphale averted his eyes and played with the empty mug. 

‘It was the stress, nothing more. There’s no need to worry about me.’   
‘I  _ always _ worry about you, and with good reason,’ Crowley mumbles. ‘Come on, let’s get some food in you.’   
‘Oh, are you sure- I’m not that hungry-’

Crowley stopped, halfway to his feet, and stared.

‘And you tell me not to worry? Angel, you’re never NOT hungry.’   
‘Well, if you’re going to mock me-’   
‘Just- just get your coat. We’re going to get some croissants at that place you like.’

Aziraphale frowned, but found nothing to say. He was simply uneasy at the idea of leaving the shop, and would rather stay inside for the day. Having Crowley in his line of sight. 

They climbed down the stairs, and Aziraphale went to the back to get his coat. He could hear Crowley walking through the bookstore. One step, then another, then another-

His hands were shaking again.

He heard the tingle of the front door bell-

‘ ** _NO_ ** !’ 

Aziraphale ran. He almost tripped over a table to reach the store front. He found Crowley in the open doorway, looking puzzled.

‘Angel, are you okay? I heard you yell-’

Arizaphale slammed the door closed and pulled Crowley by his jacket. He pulled him to the back store and closed that door too. 

He was breathing too fast again.

‘Angel, I don’t want to say there’s something wrong with you, but something's wrong with you-’

‘Crowley- I- I can’t. I can’t let you leave.’

‘What do you mean, you can’t-’   
‘Crowley, I think there’s something wrong with me.’ 

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has six or seven chapters planned.


End file.
